Thorns

For years, she dwelled within the shade
a maiden born of night
with darkened lips, dressed all in black
hiding from the light
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She shaved off her eyebrows
dressed as a vampire queen
and rumors echoed through the halls
They wanted her to feel unseen

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"No more black," the mother spat
"I will not support this phase!"
Bashing all the onyx threads
that made her daughters days
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Along came the girl of flowers and field
who mocked the dark girls art
She sneered at nails of painted jet
and claimed a bright, pure heart

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But as the seasons slowly passed
the imp pulled off a theft
She stole the bats, the dark, the notes
Till nothing true was left

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Now posing in a borrowed face
she claims she built the throne
while painting over history
to claim it as her own

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No pictures hanging in the hall
she can't hold a memory for long
The wicked mother praises the fake
and calls the true one wrong

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She spun her lies for sixty years
with no ounce of regret
She blamed the court's old, darkened knight
for seeds he never set

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"Since when," she spat, "Do you adore
this dark and dreary lace?"
The daughter shoved a handful of photos
in her empty, ignorant face

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A hundred portraits from the past
skin pale, eyes dark and bold
proved every word the mother spoke
was toxic, rotten mold

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At her side, the shape shifting imp
who once wore fields and bloom
who sneered at nails and vampire tales
came slinking in the room

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She pulls her mask upon her face
and shouts her new decree
"I know the rules of dark and night,
You're not as goth as me!"

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"You cannot think or feel that way!
My scrolls declare it so!
I read the guide online today...
so, I'm the one who knows!"

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She points a plastic finger down
and sneers with bitter pride
"You do not fit the trend right now!
Go step away and hide!"

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"You're a fake!" the imp shrieks
"A poser in the light!"
While clinging to the brand new script
she memorized last night

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She once sang of butterflies
and wore a preppy gown
Now she steals bats off the walls
and wears a 3D printed crown

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She cakes her face in makeup
and changes up her name
She scrolls through instant witch scrolls
to learn the ancient game

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She preaches rules she never learned
"You must be this or that!"
She hides behind a darkened filter
A fake and fleeting bat

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She calls the originals 'a fraud'
to hide her filtered skin
Denying everything she mocked
before she jumped right in

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The queen who earned her velvet dress
through decades in the cold
now watches lemmings trade their silk
for trendy, painted gold

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She wears a crown of twisted thorns
a shield no fraud can break
Her dark roots tangled deep in earth
A place untainted by the fake

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Imps lie and claim they 'live their truth'
They blind their eyes to spite
Protecting every fake facade
to keep their hatred bright

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They all can slither in stolen clothes
their trends will rot and fade
Queens are born of real obsidian
Not cheap online parade